


5 Times Whizzer Bought Marvin Gifts (+ 1 Time He Didn't)

by thechapwiththearms



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gay Marvin (Falsettos), Gay Whizzer Brown, Gifts, HIV/AIDS, M/M, Mention of Canonical Character Death, Photographer Whizzer Brown, SWEET BOYS, Soft tbh, Terminal Illnesses, the other characters aren't really in it, this is cheesy and somewhat trite but that's my brand really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 10:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22848496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechapwiththearms/pseuds/thechapwiththearms
Summary: Whizzer enjoys buying gifts for Marvin.
Relationships: Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Comments: 15
Kudos: 79





	5 Times Whizzer Bought Marvin Gifts (+ 1 Time He Didn't)

**Author's Note:**

> This is not beta'd and I wrote the last part in a B&Q. Also, I'm not American or Jewish so sorry if my characterisation is a little off!!

Whizzer was a thoughtful man.

Marvin, not so much.

They both loved one another, of course, but more often than not it was Whizzer who would come home with a surprise box of chocolates, or something he'd seen when out shopping that reminded him of his partner. Coming home to a sweet token of affection was not uncommon for Marvin, and each time he'd smile despite an uncomfortable awareness that he never did anything like that for Whizzer. It was not that he didn't care, or that he hadn't the time, but he was simply bad at buying gifts (especially for Whizzer, whose devotion to style -- as he termed it -- meant that his tastes were hard for the older man to even wrap his head around) and felt that he showed his love enough through other means. Still, this didn't mean that he didn't occasionally feel too spoiled for his own good.

The first time Whizzer had bought Marvin one such thoughtful gift had been around a month after they had gotten together for the first time. The older man was stressed out of his mind and, technically, still with Trina, though all three parties knew full well what was happening, even if they pretended that they didn't. Once Marvin had set off for work one morning, Whizzer resolved that he would at least attempt to make up for all of the strife that he felt he played a key role in causing. Pulling on his signature button-up and high-rise dress pants, Whizzer made for the door, and thusly for town.

When Marvin arrived home to Whizzer’s apartment that evening, a small package wrapped in iridescent red paper sat perched on the end of their dining table. Brow furrowed in both perplexity and intrigue, he shouldered off his satchel and took ahold of the box. Turning over a tag attached with twine (that was colour-matched to the wrapping paper, naturally) he read the words ‘To My Darling Marvin’ in Whizzer’s unmistakable slanted hand. Before he had even seen or considered what was inside, tears pricked at the corners of Marvin’s eyes. Batting them away, he began on the paper, tearing away at it to reveal a small, hinged leather box. Biting his bottom lip so hard he might have drawn blood, he opened the box to reveal two ornate silver cufflinks, engraved not with Marvin’s own initials, but one with an ‘M’ and one with a ‘W.’ Marvin beamed and sobbed at once.

_______________________________________

A few months later, the pair were shopping together -- a rare event as it usually led to a squabble concerning Whizzer’s impeccable taste and Marvin’s lack thereof. Nonetheless, they strolled the aisles of an art dealership, looking for something to fill the space above their headboard. No piece had caught either man’s eye thus far, when Marvin caught sight of a black-and-white Mapplethorpe print of a calla lily.

“Oh, Whizzer, this one's perfect!”

“You're kidding?” An eyebrow was cocked.

“What? Of course not. It's a Mapplethorpe, it's tasteful.” Marvin pouted.

“It's morbid. Who wants a huge photo of a funeral flower in their home?”

“Me! I do! It's different.”

“Whatever,” scoffed Whizzer.

Marvin huffed. He knew that his taste was questionable at times, but he was drawn to the lily portrait. He had to have it. Nonetheless, he rolled his eyes and complied with his boyfriend, who had already walked away from the morbid photograph. He fumed silently as he followed Whizzer around the store.

They did not speak for the rest of the day. Others might have considered his childish and, honestly, it was. But, this was how the couple functioned, at least during the first incarnation of their relationship. They would fight over something frankly negligible, blow it out of proportion in both of their minds, and give one another the cold shoulder until one of them finally bit the bullet and broke the deafening silence. Whizzer couldn't think of how to do this with words alone, so he got to work.

An hour or so later, Marvin came downstairs, also finally ready to confront his lover. When he did so, he was greeted with the sight of a rather large parcel, again wrapped in gleaming red paper and adorned with a twine bow and tag. He shot a questioning but kind look at Whizzer who was standing, smirking with arms folded, next to the present. He nodded towards it, wordlessly signalling for Marvin to open it. When he did, he found that it was the very photograph that Whizzer had scoffed at hours before. The taller man walked to Marvin as he admired the picture, hugging him from behind and placing his chin on his shoulder, also looking at the lily.

“It's kind of nice, actually.”

_______________________________________

The third time that Whizzer bought Marvin a gift, it was when the two were broken up. Well, strictly speaking, the gift was not for Marvin, but for Jason. Whizzer hadn’t seen the boy since he split with his father, and he admittedly felt a pang of guilt every time he considered this. Jason confided in him, however strange that was; his mother, whilst often trying her best, often missed the mark with her attempts to comfort the boy, Mendel was friendly but a jot too neurotic to actually give any sound advice, and Marvin was, well, Marvin. As such, Whizzer had often been the person Jason turned to when he needed a hand. He had left him without that when he broke it off with Marvin, and he felt real bad about it.

When Whizzer received a voicemail from the boy asking him to attend a Little League baseball game at his school, he could hardly refuse. He had to make up for the past couple of years (if that was possible at a little league game). Around a week before the game, Whizzer had a notion to buy a gift for Jason, and so he did: a baseball bat he made sure would be small enough for twelve-year-old hands, and also stand out from the rest of the boys’ bats. It was electric blue and hollow steel as opposed to wood, and he was sure that Jason would love it. He may not have seen the boy in two years but he remembered his favourite colour and his constant desire to stand out from the crowd. This bat was perfect.

After wrapping the gift rather awkwardly (because, how on earth do you wrap a baseball bat?), he walked a couple of blocks until he reached Marvin and Trina’s house. Feeling a wave of nausea every time he considered actually knocking on the door, he left the gift on their doorstep with a tag that simply read, ‘For Jason’.

Whizzer knew that the gift was not entirely for Jason.

_______________________________________

Months after the Little League game, the pair were miraculously back together, and both men were more enamoured with their partner than they ever had been. When they had agreed to give things another go, both Whizzer and Marvin vowed to be more open and honest with one another, in an attempt to forge a healthier relationship than last time.

It was the day before Valentine’s Day and, uncharacteristically, Whizzer was yet to buy a gift for Marvin. He had been so caught up in his rekindled affections for the man that the idea slipped his mind entirely. Now, he trawled the aisles of every store in their vicinity, finding little but cheap chocolates and already-wilting roses. Any such gift seemed trite, especially for someone as special to him as Marvin. Mindlessly, Whizzer picked out his usual roll of red wrapping paper and some matching twine, not yet knowing what he planned to put in them.

Leaving the last store, and just beginning to lose hope, an idea stuck Whizzer. During their last run as a couple, he had kept a journal, in which many of the writings were either him gushing over how much he loved Marvin, or cursing his boyfriend for some now long-forgotten fight. He realised that this served as a symbol of the feelings he once withheld from Marvin.

That evening, the pair were curled up on Whizzer’s couch with a cheap bottle of red wine and a pizza they had ordered in (Marvin hated restaurants on Valentine’s Day -- they were crowded and full of people desperate to prove to the world just how perfect their relationships are). They were watching some rom-com they had both seen a dozen times already on a time-beaten VHS that kept sticking every few minutes. Whizzer rolled his eyes and turned off the TV, earning a quizzical look from his boyfriend, which he ignored as he reached behind the couch and pulled out a precisely wrapped -- something he had perfected by now -- present. Smiling, he handed it to Marvin, who tore into the paper, the same half-frown, half-smile plastered across his face.

“I thought we agreed, no presents.”

“Just open it.”

And so he did.

“Wh--what's this?”

“It's a journal I kept when we we're together the first time around. We agreed to be more honest with one another this time so, read it. It's mostly about you,” Whizzer explained with a chuckle.

The two men spent the rest of the evening hunched over the tattered notebook, howling with laughter and occasionally tearing up at the gushing confessions of love or the unbridled fury that could be found amongst its pages.

_______________________________________

After a particularly trying day at work, Marvin came home a wreck. His hair stuck out at all angles, presumably from running his hands through it in perpetual frustration, and his eyes were red and puffy as if he had been crying. Whizzer developed an immovable lump in his throat just at the sight of him. Nights like this were becoming more and more common as Marvin grew more and more restless in his humdrum job; he was a creative at heart, but had never found a way to channel it into a career, so he wasted away at a desk every day. Whizzer's heart broke for him.

The next day, once Marvin had left at whatever ungodly time was required of him, Whizzer made a visit to Charlotte. Although she was a doctor by both soul and profession, she too was somewhat of a creative, and had been playing the piano since elementary school. As Marvin’s hectic schedule didn't really allow for formal lessons, Whizzer practically begged Charlotte to teach his boyfriend the piano. He needed a creative outlet, and one that he could perhaps eventually turn into a career, and this was perfect.

Once he had somehow talked Charlotte into the whole thing, he hugged her gratefully and dashed around every second-hand store in the city, trying to find the perfect piano to gift to Marvin. Now, they were not strapped for cash, but something felt wrong about having to dip into Marvin’s money for his own gift, so a second-hand piano would have to do for now. At the very last store he visited, he found a cherry-red upright piano for just over $500; the varnish was chipped in places but it played alright, so he bought it. Unable to bring it home, he placed a large bow on it and devised a plan to get Marvin to the store instead.

That evening, as soon as he heard Marvin’s car pull up outside, Whizzer dashed downstairs and then out into the street.

“Marv! Don't get out of the car yet!”

“W--Whizzer? Wh--”

Before Marvin could finish voicing his confusion, Whizzer was opening the door of the passenger side and hopping in.

“You know the thrift store next to that dive bar in town?”

“Uh, yeah? Whizzer, what--”

“Just go!”

“Okay, okay! Jeez.”

Still utterly perplexed, Marvin pressed back down on the accelerator and they were away. After a few minutes of getting stuck behind taxis and Whizzer grinning wildly in a manner that frankly concerned rather than endeared Marvin, they arrived at the road that the thrift store was on. Whizzer hopped out of the car and gestured for Marvin to follow him, then taking his hand and practically dragging him inside. There, the men were met by by a smiling Charlotte, standing beside the cherry-red instrument, adorned with the extravagant bow that Whizzer had placed on top of it.

“You--hah, uh--you've been really stressed lately, Marv, and it makes me sad. You always talk about not having an outlet or anything, so I thought that Charl could give you piano lessons! The piano’s for you, obviously,” Whizzer punctuated his explanation with an anticipatory giggle.

“Whiz, oh my gosh, this is too much. I love you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You too, Charl.” Marvin beamed so wide he felt his face would fall off, eyeing the piano, then Charlotte, then his boyfriend in awe.

_______________________________________

Time passed. A lot of time, really, but not enough to allow either Whizzer or Marvin to process what was happening. The previously chipper, smartass, eccentric Whizzer had fallen so ill he could barely move from his hospital bed to the chair beside it, and receiving guests was more draining that fulfilling; except for Marvin. When Marvin visited, which was often, but somehow still not enough, Whizzer felt invincible for an hour or two. When they laid awkwardly together in the single bed, he could almost convince himself that things were just like how they used to be. Almost.

There was one day in particular that Whizzer grew genuinely concerned that Marvin would not visit at all. Glancing over to the clock on the wall (Marvin had remarked on the day they first arrived there that it looked exactly like the clocks in high schools, and mentioned something about how morbid that seemed to him), Whizzer could see it was nearing 8pm, a whole two hours after he usually received a visit from Marvin, who was usually painfully punctual. Sighing, he closed his eyes and resolved to get a little sleep; if no one was coming to see him, there really was no point in staying awake for what little was left of the day, especially considering how drained he was.

That was, he was going to get a little sleep, until he heard footsteps battering frantically on the linoleum floor of the hallway; the gait was unmistakably Marvin’s. The door handle turned with considerable force, and Whizzer was greeted with an out-of-breath Marvin, smiling apologetically, and any snide comment about how late he was left Whizzer’s mind with one look up at him.

“I am so sorry, Whiz,” panted Marvin, sitting down at Whizzer’s bedside “I got here as quickly as I could but I was--uh---I was a little busy getting this.”

He held out a small box, wrapped in the same red paper that Whizzer was so partial to, and tied up with the same twine. Somehow, it was wrapped more haphazardly than if Whizzer had done it himself. This was endearing to the taller man -- he painted a mental picture of his boyfriend muddling over the gift, in a pseudo-wrestling match with the sellotape.

“What's this?” enquired Whizzer.

“J-just open it and I'll explain.” Marvin seemed rather bashful, a trait that would never usually have been attributed to him.

Whizzer did as Marvin bid him, awkwardly yanking at the tight bow and tearing at the thick paper with over-bitten nails, which unsurprisingly served no help. After this short struggle, he pulled out a small black box that bore the same logo as the box that contained the cufflinks he had bought for Marvin, two years ago now. Looking back up at the man watching him intently, he was touched that Marvin would even remember the name of the store -- he loved his partner dearly, but had honestly never pegged him as someone so observant.

“Open it, Whiz!” Marvin’s head was resting on his fists as he bore into Whizzer with big, expectant eyes.

And so, Whizzer opened the box. When he did so, he found not a pair of cufflinks, but a thick silver ring. Upon first glance, it looked plain, somewhat like a traditional wedding band, but upon examination Whizzer saw that the inside of the ring bore an embossed ‘M.’ When he looked back up at Marvin, tears that were already threatening to fall spilled over as he noticed that his boyfriend was wearing a matching ring. Marvin took his off to reveal a ‘W’ on the inside, that had slightly imprinted itself on the skin of his ring finger. Replacing his own ring, Marvin conspicuously lowered himself onto one knee. Whizzer’s eyes widened.

“They're--uh--they're promise rings. Obviously, we can't, you know, actually get engaged, but I--uh--I love you a lot, Whizzer. And I'm not being unrealistic, I know we don’t have a lot of time, but no matter whether you're here or not I’ll love you, still.” Marvin gushed, then collected himself somewhat and added, “Sappy, I know, isn't it?”

Though Whizzer’s heart swelled beyond belief at the gesture, he chuckled at this. Marvin had never known how to express affection without punctuating it with self-flagellation. Nonetheless, both men were blubbering messes at this point, and Whizzer chose to ignore the quip and just shook his head before pulling Marvin into a bear hug and kissing the top of his head.

“No, Marvin. They're wonderful. You're wonderful.”


End file.
